Under Duress
by Anxious Owl
Summary: Lenny, Dylan/Sam. Apparently things can only get worse before they get any better. For him they just seem to get worse.
1. Crawling Back To Normal

Hey guys, hope you've had a good holiday. This is my first fan fiction, and the lucky fandom I've chosen is Casualty (everybody cheers :P).

This idea has been rolling around for a while and I like to write, so thought I'd get it out there. Please let me know if you think the characters don't sound right, though I will try to make it sound as convincing as possible.

Hope you enjoy...

This is set around a week or two after Series 26 Episode 17 – Duty of Care.

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><p>Under Duress<p>

Lenny

He was met by the bright yellow walls of the newly refurbished reception and the anxious and tired faces of early morning shoppers, hunched over on the back to back rows of plastic seats, as he made his way to the staff room. Noel was dutifully explaining the arrangements for seeing patients to an elderly lady, taking phone calls and attempting to complete various administrative tasks, which were routinely punctuated by a quick wipe down of the desk. He obviously took pride in his work, and his work station, especially as he was one of the first faces patients saw when they came in. He was also a very slight gossip.

As Lenny walked past he could still feel a slight twinge from the nearly fully healed wound on the back of his leg. He often thought back to that particular afternoon and wondered if things could've gone differently; if he hadn't persuaded Frank to ignore the 'snug', if hadn't opened the door when all common sense (and Frank) had been screaming at him not to. He tossed that thought away. The ED was shiny and new again and things were crawling back to normal. No amount of 'what ifs' could change the past. That was something Lenny knew all too well.

_If I didn't have an I.D badge on me, you couldn't tell I was a doctor, _he mused and noticing gentle conversation behind him, he slowed slightly and turned his head. He smiled a greeting to Scarlett and Lloyd, also dressed casually.

"Ready for another day in the injury capital of England?" he joked wryly as they turned into a corridor, further into the department.

"I think we've been through enough in the past couple of months to handle WW3", Lloyd batted back, voice laced with sarcasm, glancing at Scarlett, who looked up from her magazine with a smile.

She quirked an eyebrow at him as they entered the staff room and headed towards their lockers, "Then why am I still nervous?"

Lloyd grinned, "You're _always _nervous"

"Am not!" she playfully hit him on the arm with her magazine.

"Now, now, I thought we were civilised adults by now?" Nick said, entering behind them sporting a navy suit, black briefcase and an amused smile.

"Morning Mr. J, are you liking your new ED?" Lenny asked Nick, as he removed his grey woollen jacket and put it in his locker beside his spare t-shirt.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be? Brand new ED, brand new start", Nick cast a cursory glance around the staff room, nodding with approval. It appeared larger and better suited to the needs of a busy emergency team.

Lenny took a quick look around the room too and said in a lowered tone, "Look Mr. Jordan, about that day in resus, one of our first patients, the guy with the leg laceration, I didn't mean -"

"I know, I know, I guess it was just hard losing the first patient so early on", he looked at Lenny, eyebrows raised, "But that doesn't mean you can't retain some decorum, okay Dr. Lyons?"

"Err, yeah of course, sorry", he nodded, fidgeting with his stethoscope and then turning to his locker to get out his scrubs.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

He had been lying in bed for around the last 15 minutes because he wasn't sure he could bring himself to face the ED yet again. The past few weeks had been challenging, to say the very least, and surprisingly not due to the patients.

It was as if with a glance people could just analyse him, make their own assumptions, and then proceed to gossip about them between themselves. He couldn't help but feel on edge every time he made eye contact with someone, never mind Sam. Samantha. He actually worked very well with her, they knew each other well enough to anticipate each other's next moves, making them a fluid and effective team in resus. But when the patient was being wheeled off and their minds began to wander again after being focussed on a task, the atmosphere would once again thicken.

He was sorry. Sorry that what he had said on the first day back had come out so... wrong. He just came out with the first thing to come to mind, just to, frankly, shut up the ever loquacious nurses. He didn't mean for the entire team to turn around and bathe him in an awkward silence. And for Sam to be standing there, face set in stone.

He hadn't been entirely miserable during their married life together, no, but during the stretches of time when she would storm out after an argument, or completely blank him and what he was trying to say to her – yes, he had been. They experienced oscillating highs and lows in their relationship, but he had always hoped that they would level out and diminish with time. He had been wrong – something he didn't like to admit, and he knew neither did she. But what they had needed was also something neither was fond of; a proper conversation about what was going on and where they were headed. Her leaving for Afghanistan didn't help, he had still thought they had a chance; he had a feeling she did too. They could handle the daily problems that walked through those irritating swinging doors at work; family conflicts, violent attacks, hell, even poisonous gas clouds, but never their own problems.

So it was easy to understand from that point of view that having their relationship made public knowledge made him feel more than a little exposed.

However there was no point in dwelling on the past. _It's the now that matters_, he thought as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair, and right now he really needed some coffee.

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

"Toby Southfield, 12, possible fracture, cubicle 3", Tess handed him the kid's notes. He gave them a once over as he walked to Toby's bed, where the boy's mother was perched beside him, a picture of worry.

"Hi there, I'm Dr. Lyons", he nodded to the boy's mother, then looked at Toby, "Heard you took a tumble off your bike little man, want to tell me what that was about?" he asked as he began to inspect his left arm.

"I was going round a corner and I think my gears jammed or something. I was wearing my helmet and everything but this happened", he explained, seeming more upset by the poor performance of his bike than his injured arm.

His mother shook her head with disproval, "I tell him over and over again to be careful, never ride alone, don't go too fast, but does he listen? No - it's like talking to a brick wall."

Lenny grinned and finalised his conclusion: "Right, this looks like a relatively simple fracture – quite common in children, but we'll need to get an x-ray done to confirm it and find out if there's any further damage. I guess some things just can't be avoided, aye champ?" Toby stifled a grin from his mother.

"Nonsense Dr. Lyons", Jordan arrived just outside of the curtain followed by the newly appointed Dr. Kent. Lenny had exchanged a few words with the man so far but didn't really know him very well yet; he supposed he was going to get a chance to now, judging by Jordan's presence.

"You wouldn't mind if Dr. Kent here takes a look, would you? Maybe get a second opinion?" Kent gave a friendly smile to the boy and his mother.

"Why not?" Lenny replied, albeit reluctantly, "Though I doubt you'll find anything different to what I have" he took a step back to allow Kent to examine the boy's arm. He began gentle conversation with the boy while inspecting his arm.

"See you've got a Man U scarf – I'm an Arsenal guy myself"

"Arsenal? Man U could beat Arsenal any day of the week!" Toby smiled, matter-of-factly.

"You want a bet little man?" Kent laughed, before pausing.

"I may be wrong, but I think there might've been some buckling at the end of the bone. If there is, there's some simple treatment to help reshape it. It's much easier for it to happen to young bones because they haven't fully hardened yet, but it's important to get it dealt with so it grows properly", he explained to the boy's mother.

Jordan nodded his approval and glanced at Lenny.

"Yeah, that would've been more obvious on an x-ray", Lenny reasoned.

Kent agreed, "Definitely, we'll just pop into the x-ray room to take a look at your arm, and if you're lucky you'll get a plaster, how about that?"

Toby gave a grin. Lenny forced a smaller one as he straightened the patient notes.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

The blonde one looked at him again – _Nurse Andrews, that's it_. She glanced at Sam absent-mindedly, made the link in her head, and then glanced at him. Typical. This is exactly why he didn't want anyone to know. He hates the way people stare at him now, passing judgement on him for hiding his marriage away. But not just him. They look at Sam as if to say, "She could do so much better... How she puts up with him I don't know... It was probably a convenience marriage..."

He had never really cared what others thought of him. He would just get on with his job, go home, wake up and repeat the process. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his job, he did. There was always something happening, always something to do, and if he was lucky, a new puzzle to solve. He even found himself making friends, well, acquaintances. He didn't socialize with anyone, banter with Big Mac and Nigel or joke with Lenny and Floyd. However there was a generally comfortable working atmosphere that didn't overlap with his personal life, which suited him just fine.

Though, he had built bridges with Zoe, something which still surprised him no end. She stuck up for him after a few (many) brushes with patients - and Jordan. She was smart, with a dry humour, and a casual disinterest which made him more comfortable around her. She didn't seem to find him _too_ weird.

But of course, Sam had to open her mouth and now everyone knew about Mr and Mrs Keogh. Including Zoe. After he had lied to her face about being married.

During what they both believed were their last few minutes of life.

Damn.

And at that moment he had lost one of the only true friends he had made in a long time.

He was broken out of his reverie by Tess.

"Mr. Bolton, 57, came in complaining of chest pains and dizziness, suspected chest infection, cubicle 5", she listed, distributing the remaining roles with the ease that came with what Dylan assumed was many years of experience.

"You, Nurse..." he tried to inconspicuously read her badge, "...Conway, with me please", he said as he placed his stethoscope around his neck and turned towards cubicles.

"Right, okay", she fumbled with a pile of patient records on the counter and jogged round the desk to keep up with him. Somehow she didn't seem as calm and collected as Tess, which probably wasn't helped by the fact that _he _was the one calling her. His blunt and unpredictable manner seemed to have that effect on some people.

Mr. Bolton was a man of average build, average appearance and an easily diagnosable (and dull) chest infection, as noted by Tess. _Boring_.

"Right Mr. Bolton, I suggest you go home and try to ride this one out. A couple of days' bed rest, plenty of fluids, no marathons or other strenuous exercise. If it hasn't improved in three days then go see your GP."

Mr. Bolton looked affronted. "Why aren't you prescribing any antibiotics? This", he gestured to his chest erratically, "This has been bothering me for days, and you're not going to do anything about it?"

"No offense intended Mr. Bolton, but it should be common knowledge by now that antibiotics are not prescribed unless entirely necessary to prevent resistant bacteria from thriving in your chest cavity if the full cycle isn't completed. It's better in the long run to wait for your body to fight it off", and at the man's haughty silence, "are we done?", he paused to look up at Scarlett, who gave a quick nod, "Good, I would say 'See you next time', Mr. Bolton, but that wouldn't necessarily be a good thing, now would it?"

* * *

><p>So... there we have it. Please review and let me know what you think.<p>

Till next time,

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	2. Confrontations and Realisations

Hi again.

Hope you enjoyed the first instalment. If not please review and tell me why. I don't mind constructive criticism. I should be doing French homework right now – maybe I could make up for it by writing this in French? No? Okay.

Disclaimer (Didn't put one in the first chapter...but it's here now): I don't own Casualty or any of its characters – only an overactive imagination.

Also, a **big thank you** to Lisa95 and MissGracieKathy - Chapter 2 is dedicated to you ;)

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><p><em>A few days later...<em>

Lenny

He stirred his coffee lazily. It had been a slow morning for him (well, as slow as it could get in an emergency department) and he needed a caffeine boost to get him through the shift. He felt frustrated. He was stuck in cubicles for the conceivable future for one slip-up. Granted, it had the potential to become an absolutely catastrophic slip-up if Jordan hadn't picked up on it; the man could've fallen gravely ill – or worse. But that didn't stop him from feeling utterly bored out of his mind. Jordan had been surprisingly gentle about it though. There had been a time when he would chew Lenny up and spit him out over the same mistake. Perhaps it was because of Tom. _Jordan's new golden boy must have him in a good mood_, he thought bitterly. No, that wasn't fair. After all, Big Mac's heroics played a big part too. _As did a certain DCI, _Lenny thought impishly.

He supposed another new doctor was a good thing, what with Ruth and Jay leaving for their happily ever after, they had been slightly understaffed. He paused, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. He sometimes missed the banter between himself and Jay; they had been mates. Maybe not as close as Yuki, but still mates.

He often wondered why everybody kept leaving.

He tapped the spoon on the edge of the mug and left his drink to cool as he went to his locker to retrieve a spare pen. His other had run out in the middle of a discharge form. He found that the nurses and Noel didn't appreciate having pens stolen left, right and centre, so decided to stay in their good books by sticking to his own. He slipped the pen into his scrubs pocket and took out his phone at the same time. He unlocked it to check for texts or missed calls, _not that I'll have any, _he thought. Outside of work he didn't have many contacts; anybody who needed him he was already working beside.

Linda stuck her head round the door to the staff room.

"The walk-ins are building up in there, people are getting jumpy", she informed him, before bobbing back out quickly.

"Alright, on my way", he called after her, dropping his phone onto his jacket in his locker and hastily slamming it shut. He followed her out to reception, wondering exactly what was going on.

His coffee remained on the worktop and grew cold.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

"Okay, I need you to calm down", Dylan tried to use level tones he didn't know he had.

"I'm not leaving until that hooligan apologises!" Dylan's angina patient, Mr. Peters, yelled back defiantly, showing no sign of relent.

Unfortunately, neither did the 'hooligan'. "Who's goin' to make me? Eh, old man? Who? Obviously not you!"

The boy, probably no more than nineteen, laughed again. He seemed to be enjoying himself, watching the older man work himself into a rage, even though he himself was clutching a bloodied wrist and had one hell of a shiner. "Go on back to your knitting Granddad; you don't need to worry about me!"

"You insolent-", Peters paused in mid rant, a defeated look on his face.

Dylan had really had enough by this point, "Right, if you want treatment, you leave him alone and sit down or you get out – your choice."

He also wondered whether he was the right person to be dealing with this.

The boy came up close, and even with an eye like a swollen grape, managed to look menacing. "Are _you _goin' to treat me? _Doctor_?" he spat out the word and his face twisted like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Dylan was at the end of his tether and going to come back with a poisonous retort when he heard: "I need some help here!"

Lenny was kneeling on the floor trying to support Mr. Peters, who had slumped onto his knees, taking heavy, rasping breaths. Dylan automatically switched into Medical Mode and in seconds was by his side, checking his pulse and helping Lenny heave him onto a trolley. A number of doctors and nurses had gathered to see what the fuss was about.

The teen just looked on through dark eyes, "Serves the old git right".

A man who had just entered was standing across from the teen down the aisle of the plastic seats, "Excuse me?" he said to the boy, then wearily, worriedly, towards Mr. Peters, "Dad?"

Dylan decided that he had to separate the trio, and fast – Peters Senior wouldn't go any farther than arguing doggedly, but he had a bad feeling that Junior might just overstep the mark. But it had already started.

"You did this to him, didn't you? You pathetic piece of-"

"You wan' a fight? I'll take ya!" the younger man advanced on him, a fiery defiance in his eyes, Peters' son looked less keen but his anger hadn't cooled. His hands curled into fists as the teen stuck his face up close, daring him to throw the first punch.

That is, until Dylan positioned himself between them, his arms up on either side, ready to push them both away like a coiled spring.

"Mr. Peters", he addressed the son first, "Your father needs your support right now, not a scrap in a hospital reception", he said with slight disdain.

Then he turned to face the teen with a pointed look, "And you. I'm sure you don't want to add to that already impressive collection of battle scars, because you're not going to get anywhere with that hand. We'll get you seen to in cubicles, and you can leave, simple as that", he stepped away slowly, letting them recover from their bouts of blind rage.

"Why don't you choose something a little more civilised to let off steam? Like... squash!" he said exasperatedly, throwing his arms up in the air for emphasis as they turned to him simultaneously with confused looks. Dylan walked away, satisfied that they weren't about to leap at each other's throats anymore.

Scarlett looked between the two, attempting to lead the older man to his father (not wanting to be the one to deal with the shady adolescent). Tess waved security that had just arrived away. People sitting around the now slightly uncomfortable pair were still leaning away from them, whispering between themselves.

Noel pursed his lips, cleared his throat hesitantly, tapped the microphone, and broke the awkward silence.

"Jennifer Johansson, a nurse will see you now."

* * *

><p>The tense atmosphere calmed as the general clamour of the ED restarted and everyone resumed what they were doing.<p>

Sam had been treating a 34 year old secretary for a badly sprained ankle before she went with Zoe to see what was going on. After prescribing paracetamol and as little movement as possible, she signed the woman off and walked towards the main desk area in the middle of the room. Zoe was checking something on one of the computers and looked up when Sam came up to file the form.

"If I had a pound for every time someone got a little rowdy in here..."she said, shaking her head, "At least Dylan calmed them down before we had another two casualties on our hands, we're busy enough as it is", she said.

Then a look of realisation dawned on her face, "Ah, there we go, she's had Chlamydia. Why didn't she tell me before? There's no point in being so bloody shy in front of a doctor."

Zoe shook her head and went to treat her embarrassed patient.

Sam, meanwhile, had been lost in her own thoughts. The clash that Dylan had averted had struck a chord within her. It was little times like this when she felt proud of her husband. It was like he was the calm, sane half of her. He didn't jump the gun and argue right back like she did when a patent was being difficult. _He preferred to make a sly witty comment to amuse himself_, she thought with a smile. _Not put them in a headlock_, she remembered with a grimace. He was always the one to bring her back down to Earth, and her, him. They anchored each other when their tearaway personalities threatened to wash them away. She realised that that was only one of the things she had loved about him. Still loved about him.

It was also little times like this when she wondered what had possessed her to give all of that away.

* * *

><p>He placed the mug in the rack to drip dry before drying his hands on a towel and picking up his navy fleece. Big Mac had had an average day, apart from that little display in reception.<p>

He still got a few smiles and a 'Well done' here and there for just being in the right place at the right time for little Will. He liked having made a difference, even if it resulted in a bruised backside.

He hummed gently as he walked past the lockers, until he heard a faint buzzing noise. He held his head a little closer to the lockers and moved along until he had zoned in on the source of the noise. It was coming from Lenny's locker. It stopped, so he straightened up, shrugging his shoulders. He made a mental note to let Dr. Lyons know before picking up his tune where he left off and leaving the staff room, letting the door shut softly behind him.

* * *

><p>The phone rang again, but this time there was no one there to hear it.<p>

* * *

><p>Oo-er.<p>

Who is calling Lenny? Will Sam and Dylan ever get themselves sorted out? Will Noel remember to take his finger off the microphone switch next episode? ;)

Only time will tell guys.

Till then

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	3. Calm before the Storm

Hey guys, I just noticed that I've had around 250 hits but only 2 people have reviewed. I understand that not all are users or are able to review, but hopefully someone can still drop me one? If you can't though, no problem; I'd just appreciate it, that's all.

Please let me know if you like the way I write and the way the story is progressing - if you have any constructive criticism, please don't hesitate to share!

As always, hope you enjoy...

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><p><span>Lenny<span>

Steady relaxed breaths had replaced the haggard ones being taken only moments before as Mr. Peters lay back, muscles still evidently tense. Lenny pulled at the rail to slow the trolley to a halt before two blue clad nurses proceeded to hook Mr. Peters up to the relevant machinery. He looked up at Dylan, who had just finished securing the trolley and was now flicking through the patient notes as he walked round to the side of the bed, opposite Lenny. From what he could gather, the teen had jostled the patient in the chaos that was the waiting area, and the tiny disagreement had escalated – up until Dr. Keogh had stepped in.

He decided to give credit where it was due: "What you did out there, was ah, good."

Dylan's body didn't move but his eyes swivelled upwards to pause on Lenny for a moment.

"Did you expect me to let them get on with it?" though at the uneasy look on Lenny's face he amended his statement, "Err, thank you."

Lenny nodded his head slowly, pressing his lips together. _Boy, this is awkward_.

He tilted backwards and forwards a little on the balls of feet as the silence stretched on.

Luckily for him, Mr. Peters had started to come round from his temporary confusion, gingerly pushing himself up. Lenny glanced up at Dylan, who still hadn't changed from his position. He decided to start things off for him.

"Okay, feeling better? Right, I think we can confidently say that you won't be leaving too soon. There are a number of tests I think Dr. Keogh would like to run-"

He stopped as Tess pushed the door open. Both doctors looked at her.

"Dr. Keogh, you're needed in resus," she notified, hand resting against the door as she leant through the gap, anticipating a reply.

Dylan glanced between Lenny and Tess and said slowly, "Bit busy at the moment," making Lenny feel immediately obliged to relieve him – even though he sorely wanted to be the one to go to resus.

"I could take over for you here," he suggested, somewhat reluctantly.

"Great, thank you," Dylan replied curtly, following Tess out.

"Okay then...," Lenny muttered, more to himself than anyone else, then to Mr. Peters, "We're going to have to keep you in for observation in case of further episodes like this, but if everything's clear you can go home in a few hours."

Mr. Peters just nodded tiredly.

"I'll bring your son in then shall I? Should've calmed down by now."

"Yes. And I'm sorry for... that. Like father, like son, eh?"

Lenny gave an empty smile as he turned away, unexpectedly overcome with feelings he thought he had buried a long time ago.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

He strode into resus purposefully. Sam looked up for a fraction of a second before reeling off a list of symptoms, "OD-ed on heroin, low resps, frequent seizures, but he's already got underlying low BP problems. He needs-"

"- a strong sedative to stop the seizures, but it'll risk lowering his BP dangerously," Dylan finished for her.

"Exactly," she exhaled, "I wanted your opinion on slowly building up the dosage."

"Try that, but make sure you have a team standing by to bring him back if the dosage gets too high," he responded over his shoulder as he made his way to a young woman, around twenty, with a large lump forming on the right of her forehead.

Tess had been watching them out of the corner of her vision with veiled interest. They worked brilliantly together as a team, of course, but as a couple? She could only imagine; but even that was difficult. She had to admit that when Sam had first started working here, her behaviour around Dylan had been a little strange, somewhat _comfortable_. But to everyone else, Tess included, the furthest extent to which most would assume was that they had been colleagues in the past. Not marriage partners.

As Dylan approached Tess easily averted her current train of thought towards the young woman, barely even that, lying in front of her. It looked like someone had pushed a cork ball up underneath the skin. She lay horizontally trying to make use of the oxygen coming through her mask, but with little luck; her breaths were coming in shallow and arduous.

"Louise Jenner, 21, her car collided with a barrier," Tess explained, "She's got a slight concussion and breathing difficulties."

He slipped his stethoscope into his ears and gently placed the opposite end first onto the right side, then left of her chest, quickly forming a diagnosis as he did so.

"Right, we've got a severe pneumothorax and judging by her resps there's no time for a chest x-ray. I need a chest tube and cannula."

"Her BP's dropping," Tess told him, as another nurse handed him the equipment, one by one.

"Okay..." he held the cannula above the 'safe triangle' beneath her armpit, where there was the lowest risk of damage to internal organs.

"This should... only... take," he smoothly inserted it, "at... the most," his gaze still locked on the triangle, he accepted a chest tube from the nurse, "... a minute," he slid it in after the cannula.

He removed his gloves and deposited them in the waste bin at the side of the room as gas leaked out of the chest tube gradually, allowing the woman's lung to expand to its normal volume in the chest cavity.

"Okay, give her 10mg of morphine, get a chest x-ray and keep her under obs for now. Call me if there are any abnormal or interesting changes," Dylan instructed as he placed his stethoscope back around his neck and left resus.

Tess nodded in acknowledgement, quirking her eyebrow with a hint of disproval at the 'interesting' comment, before proceeding to ease Louise's pillow to a more comfortable position.

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

_Another one down_, Lenny thought, satisfied that another patient had been treated and shipped out for another to replace them. Mr. Peters had stayed for an hour and a half with his son, and after having had no further angina attacks, Lenny discharged him.

_I could really use that coffee now_.

Except lo and behold, Tess was directing another patient into the room Lenny had just cleared.

"Dr. Lyons," she handed him a folder of patient notes, "This is Louise Jenner, resus is full and Dr. Keogh is... busy with other patients. She's had a chest drain done and is under obs, but she'll need an examination in around an hour's time before she can be moved to another ward or discharged."

"And you immediately thought of me," he said cheekily, clapping his hands to his chest.

"I immediately thought of the closest doctor within 10 yards," she clarified, shaking her head with a smile at his antics and leaving the room.

"Hi there," he said more soberly to Louise, who had by now improved exponentially and was sitting up straight with more colour in her face. The bulbous swelling had receded somewhat.

"I'm Dr. Lyons, and like Nurse Bateman said, and I'll be in charge of you for the next couple of hours. Right now there's not much we can do apart from sit and wait, but if have any pain or need anything, just tell one of the nurses and they'll give me a shout."

"Okay," she responded plainly with a smile.

He nodded._ Simple._ He left the room in the direction of cubicles.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

_Oh God, she wants something_.

But Dylan had noticed Tess coming up to him too late. She stood beside him, arms crossed, as he leant on the side of the desk, quickly beginning to amend some patient notes.

"I just thought you would want to know where your patient was and how she's doing," she stated, fixing him with a sharp look.

"And which one might that be?" he responded vaguely.

"Louise Jenner, pneumothorax?" she moved her head side to side, searching him for evidence of a recollection, "Anyway, I've left her with Dr. Lyons - which I shouldn't have had to do - because _you _should be the one examining her."

"Were there any changes?" he countered.

"No, none, interesting or otherwise."

"Then-"

"Then you can go check her over and be done with it, can't you?" she interjected, plucking the patient notes out of his hands and walking straight past him to Mr. Bradley in cubicle 4. Dylan just subjected her back to an evil glare, eliciting a small smile from Sam who was walking past. He caught her eye.

"I see you're maintaining a healthy relationship with the nursing staff," she commented.

"Of course...," she walked around him to the desk and he pivoted around to keep her in sight, "... and what do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Oh nothing - just that you're not their favourite doctor to be working under," she explained, finding it difficult to restrain a smile at ruffling his feathers. Just like she used to.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sarcastically, "And you are?"

"More than you, that's for sure," she tapped him on the shoulder with her folder, turning to walk away.

"If I recall correctly, you never had any qualms about working with me," he said, but quieter than before; so that she was the only one that heard.

She walked back up to him. He was focussing intently on a computer screen, deliberately so that he wouldn't have to face her. He had no idea where that comment had come from. It had pulled free from the shackles of his carefully composed control.

"Despite the fact that you were sometimes rude, often socially retarded and _always _difficult...," she stated as he tilted his head slightly in response to her list, eyebrow raised and his eyes still on the screen.

"... No. I – I enjoyed working with you."

She paused.

"And I still do."

She pressed her lips together gently and walked away towards her next patient, leaving Dylan alone with his tumultuous thoughts. _What did she mean by that? Apart from that she likes working with me. Does she still lov- No. She can't possibly want me, not any more, not after that. I could never take her back and neither could she; we would never work. Not again. But...  
><em>

He realised that he was over-analysing again. He sighed. People often thought that he was callous, cold, and unfeeling. But sometimes it seemed like he felt too much.

He shook his head, as if the simplest of physical actions could disperse the daggers of thought and memory and fantasy and grief that tore across his synapses until he could no longer tell what was real and what was wishful thinking anymore.

He decided to pay Ms. Jenner a visit.

* * *

><p>Apparently Beyoncé was trying a totally new diet to skim off the pregnancy pounds, consisting of a lot of porridge and broccoli. Louise twisted her mouth in disgust behind the magazine. How women could put God-knows-what into their mouths to lose weight she would never know. She had asked a nurse, as Dr. Lyons had advised, if they could find her something to read. If she was going to be here a while she wasn't going to spend it bored to tears. As she tried to immerse herself in the celebrity crossword, a blonde nurse approached the bedside.<p>

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

Louise immediately relaxed at the woman's soft, sisterly voice.

"Much better thanks – just aching all over."

"Well the doctor is going to check over one last time and then hopefully you can go home," the nurse smiled and looked up as the aforementioned doctor entered the room.

"Ms. Jenner, I assume? Right, I've had a look at your x-ray and everything seems clear, but I'm going to have to have a listen to your breathing and do a few other routine checks."

She thought it would be the friendly Scottish one, but this man was stockier, blonder and much stranger. He moved as though he were ill at ease, and whenever he spoke he couldn't quite meet her eyes, focussing above her eyebrows before looking away at frequent intervals. _Must have something on his mind_, she thought, not quite wanting to think that she was the cause of his obvious discomfort.

After placing his stethoscope upon her chest and listening to her re-inflated lung, he taught her some breathing exercises and what to do if she has any further ailments that could be due to her injury. She noticed that despite his detached bedside manner, the treatment was where he came into his element, and she felt very reassured by the end of it.

"... otherwise, you come straight back here. Okay?"

She realised he had asked her a question.

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"Alright then."

He made to leave quickly, but noticed Nurse Andrews with one of _those _looks on her face. He groaned inwardly and turned around again to leave the patient with a pleasant – but absolutely pointless, useless – "Have a nice day now", accompanied by a saccharine smile plastered on his face.

_Amazing what a difference five stupidly useless words can make_, his ever present sarcasm supplied.

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

He breathed a sigh of relief. The shift was finally over, which meant no more whining teenagers, over protective parents and old people complaining about 'what the NHS has become'. Granted, not all of his patients were that maddening, but those that were, unfortunately, stuck in his memory the most. He signed the final form with a flourish and was about to make his way to the staff room when he noticed Louise Jenner walking up.

"So, Dr. Keogh's given you a clean bill of health then?"

"Seems like it. But I have to say I thought that you'd be the one checking me over."

"Yeah well, you were his patient first. Finders keepers," he grinned as she gave a small laugh.

"Well thanks," she said, as she made to go.

"You're welcome."

They parted ways and Lenny felt that that was a rather satisfying end to the day for a doctor. The gratitude from patients was the next best thing to the adrenaline of resus, he supposed.

He entered the staff room as Dixie offered the routine, "Who's for drinks?"

"Count me in," he instantly replied, after all, who was he to deny reward for a good day's work?

He turned to his locker as the rest of the team filled the room with relaxed banter. He removed his stethoscope from around his neck as Big Mac had a sudden realisation.

"Dr. Lyons," he approached Lenny, feeling a little proud that he'd remembered.

"Your phone was ringing earlier on. Didn't think much of it at the time, thought you were busy. Might've been important."

"Aye, thanks Mac," Lenny opened his locker, just a bit surprised.

_Who would be calling me in the middle of a shift?_

He picked up his mobile and unlocked the keypad while he deposited the stethoscope. He leaned against the locker with one hand as scrolled down the list of missed calls with the other, uncertainty taking over.

_8 missed calls...from who?_ The number was unknown. So this person knew his number but he didn't know theirs. _Guess there's only one way to find out_, he thought, dialling.

For some reason he was getting tense. It could just be some old mate who'd got his number off of someone – but then why would they ring him 8 times throughout the day? Unless it was something really important. A dense mass dropped from his heart in to his stomach.

The stranger's phone began to ring. He took to counting them to relieve the unexpected tension.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Rin-_

"Hello, Lenny?"

"Err, hi, who is this?"

The stranger, evidently male and also Scottish, exhaled deeply through his mouth. Someone from Cherrywood? The sound came through the phone. It sounded long, heavy; the man seemed stressed. Lenny's mouth got drier and his attention increased ten-fold.

"It- its Ian."

Lenny heart stopped. _No. God, no..._

"Ian..."

"I don't know how to tell you this. It's been so hard...," Ian paused, overwrought, confirming Lenny's worst fears.

"Its Helen. She's- she's gone."

He had no idea how to respond. The tension had wrapped itself around his lungs, like vines, the thorns all pointing inwards. He only got one word out.

"When."

It was hard, cold, empty. Dylan looked across from his position at the table. He glanced around the room. No one else noticed the small solid word leave Lenny's mouth.

His hand trembled against the locker. Ian was still talking, whether Lenny was listening or not.

"This morning. We were- we were just talking. And she just...," It was obviously too much for him, "I got your number from her mobile. She spoke about you. She'd just held on for so long, that we thought... _I _thought, she might carry on. The doctors had even picked up on a possible match, in Swansea. But...," he swallowed.

"I felt you had to be one of the first to know, but I tried and tried and I couldn't get hold of you. The funeral is on Sunday. I'll tell you more closer the time," he paused, not sure of what else to say, "Bye."

He ended the call. Lenny was still staring into his locker, his hand still loosely holding his phone, still poised by his ear. Dylan watched his out his peripheral vision. Something was badly wrong.

Lloyd slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to Lenny.

"Hey, you coming?"

His question drew the attention of Tess and Scarlett. They looked at him expectantly.

"Err, not yet. I'll catch you guys up." he put on a weak smile to assure them, not believing for a second that it would work.

"Right, but don't spend too long. We need someone to help me get this lot home," he grinned, ducking as Jeff tried to slap his head teasingly.

"See y'there," Dixie smiled, though looking slightly concerned at Lenny's peaky face, before following Lloyd and Jeff as the remaining team members left the room.

Dylan had noticed Lenny's abrupt mood change. Lenny could fool the others, but he couldn't fool him. He wasn't planning on indulging his liver this particular evening, not that he ever did nowadays, and he had a feeling Lenny shouldn't be either. Dylan really felt he should just leave. But he didn't. His conscience wouldn't let him. He stood up, looking round at him.

"Are you, ah, alright? You seemed a little tense."

Lenny looked over at him, brow furrowing slightly. Had he let his guard down that much? He couldn't handle this.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he grabbed his NHS fleece, "Night."

He left the room quickly. Dylan also noticed that he was still in his scrubs and hadn't taken any of his things. He figured Lenny wasn't in a position to talk to anyone, let alone him. Whatever was the matter with Lenny wasn't any of his business. He picked up his bag and left too.

* * *

><p>Lenny left dazedly. His feet took him through a few corridors, past several supply closets and out a back exit of the hospital, which opened up on a large visitors car park. About three quarters of it was filled. The street lights dappled the black tarmac in an orange haze. There was a man locking his car and another assisting an elderly lady up to a side entrance. The windows of the hospital emitted a white glow that softened the orange of the car park. Lenny finally re-emerged from his subconscious and collapsed onto a bench, his back hitting the chilled wood, the cold seeping through his scrubs. The fleece remained untouched on the bench beside him.<p>

How could he have let this happen? _I shouldn't have lied. I was so stupid. She might've had more time. Ian must hate me so much, and Tom..._ and round and round and round. He all at once felt very weary, wanting nothing more but his bed.

He tipped his head back onto the edge of the wood, allowing a breath to ghost past his lips up into the dark.

The night air was cool and crisp. The sky was inky and cloudless, not a star in the sky.

Somewhere on the opposite side of the hospital, a doctor unlocked his car.

_Perhaps I'll take Dervla for a walk round the embankment_, he pondered.

* * *

><p>So the mystery caller has been revealed. Did anybody suspect it was about Helen? I just thought that this particular storyline wasn't emphasised in the show, so would be relatively easy to incorporate without giving the game away.<p>

What did you guys think? Please leave a review! They motivate me to write quickly... most of the time.

Updates will probably be a weekly thing now because of my schoolwork.

And there will be more Dylan/Sam to come. There are usually a few different things going on at the same time in the show too, so I attempted to recreate that.

Till next time!

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	4. Giant Pink Elephant

**The first thing I have to say is sorry** for a late update, especially since I said I would write more quickly after your great reviews. *Hangs head in shame*.

**The second thing is sorry again**, as this chapter is ever so slightly short compared to the previous ones. A levels have been stressing me out big time. It was either update more frequently, but with shorter chapters, or update less frequently with bigger chapters. The first option won.

A massive **thanks** to ficmouse and Addicted-To-Sugar-Quills for their lovely reviews and to Lisa95 for ongoing support :)

Without further ado, chapter 4!

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

He could've walked the streets all night, just thinking. He could've gone to a pub on the other side of Holby, away from his friends, and drunken himself into oblivion. He could've done just that in his own living room. But he didn't. He spent five minutes navigating his way back through the hospital.

Funny how his subconscious knew the way there, but his consciousness didn't know the way back.

He numbly shrugged off his scrubs and slid on his jeans and t-shirt. Tom, who had just started his shift, had noticed Lenny leaving while peering at an x-ray, and smiled at him. Lenny merely nodded a farewell in response and exited, not wanting to engage in conversation.

He wallowed in his ruminations on the way home. It would have probably been advisable to take the bus so he could get home as quickly as possible, especially in the state he was in, but he decided to walk like he usually did nevertheless. He went at a steady monotonous pace, staring down at the pavement in front of him.

This always happened. Relationships didn't come naturally to him, at least not the ones that mattered. Things seemed to take a nosedive just when he felt the most secure. Whenever this occurred, his main source of comfort or advice would have been Yuki. Even if he didn't directly ask for it - which he never did - the other man was always willing to shower him with his nervous psycho-babble. It was how Yuki showed he cared, he guessed, and Lenny appreciated it too. But this time there was no kind reliable Yuki there to break his fall.

However he moved on, like he always did, and gradually fell into step with Mads. She slowly filled the best-friend gap Yuki had left. She was gentle, smart and lovely to anyone who met her. Everyone else heard the things he said, but only she understood everything he meant. Another very useful skill was that Mads knew when to back him up or make him see reason; the mental slap he needed sometimes. Except it reached a point where he wanted more from whatever it was between them, something friendship alone couldn't provide. She was everything he needed, the seemingly perfect partner to his exuberant personality - he'd just never plucked up the courage to say it outright. And when he had, it had been too late. Another failure on his part.

He was brought back by a wet spattering on his forehead. It had started to spit. The previously clear sky had become blotched with grey clouds. The tips of his fingers were cold as he fumbled with his keys.

He crumpled down onto the sofa, his shoulders sinking and some external awareness returning as the tension that had been building since Ian's first words began to finally dissipate, only to be replaced by an air of helplessness. He exhaled deeply before running his hands over his face, anticipating his usual sleep troubles.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

He watched her ponytail go swish, swish from side to side as she walked around the counter to get to the middle computer in the cubicles area. He himself was alternating between sipping his coffee, reading his first patient history of the day, and thinking about how he really hated mornings. That, and cursing himself each time she caught his eye for the most trivial of things. It was so strange how routine it had become. At first, the idea of his estranged wife working alongside him seemed terrible. He had started at Holby to let go of the past and re-establish his passion for emergency medicine, give his mundane day to day existence a focus again. But just when he felt comfortable and stable, she turned up out of the proverbial blue and threw his world into disarray. Well, further disarray.

And now here they both were, bustling about the Holby emergency department as if they'd been working there all their lives. Strange.

"Anyone up there, Sherlock?"

He put on his most menacing this-had-better-be-good look, and raised his head from the patient history.

"Welcome back," Sam said, "Noel passed these on - there were still some pages from your patient's history left in the printer. Receptionist at the other end obviously took their time."

She presented him with three more sheets and continued what she was doing, completely unfazed.

He took the notes and continued to read the seemingly never ending saga. _How long is this girl's history? Either she's pathologically clumsy or incredibly stupid. Or both. But then again, most people who walk in here are._

* * *

><p>Sam watched him from afar. <em>Aargh! Why am I so stupid? <em>She had a chance to talk to him then, and she blew it. If she wanted any chance of sorting her life out, they'd have to acknowledge the giant pink elephant in the room that was their marriage... and possible divorce. As much as it pained her, she had to admit that keeping up this illusion of a relationship was only dragging them both down. They had to let each other go, allow each other to breathe again, even if her heart said otherwise.

She blew out through her mouth and marched off; she'd try to talk to him later. She was making her way towards cubicle 5 when she almost careered head first into Lenny. He apologised mutedly and walked quickly towards the staff room. She had expected a louder, more immature response, but shrugged as she carried on, Tom's next statement answering her question.

"Who's doing the walk of shame this time, eh Lyons?" he teasingly clapped his hand onto Lenny shoulder as he walked past, eliciting a grin from Big Mac.

Lenny only laughed good naturedly, even if only on the outside, and went to change. _You have no idea._

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

He groaned inwardly as his shoulder muscles stretched to accommodate his scrub top.

Last night had been just what he had expected: sleepless and painful. He had spent an hour hunched at the small kitchen table over a mug of tea, then another on the sofa, channel hopping, then another tossing and turning in bed, followed by another washing his face and hands, inspecting himself in the mirror for a lot longer than was necessary, and so on and so forth. The only difference was that this time he actually had a good try at falling asleep – not chugging coffee to achieve the opposite.

Linda came in and switched the kettle on.

"You alright? You look a bit tired," she said with concern, popping a tea bag into a patterned mug.

"Nah, I'm fine," he tried to redirect the subject, "Though I could ask you the same thing. The kids still driving you mad?"

"You don't know the half of it," she said tiredly, rubbing her forehead in remembrance and then pausing.

"But then again, you probably do." she smiled awkwardly.

"Yeah..." he said and left quickly – Linda was bound to pry again, and he wasn't in the mood to relay his childhood to her.

He mentally readied himself for another day in cubicles. If he had been in resus, at least the constant flurry of activity would have kept him distracted. Spending hour upon hour with the everyday broken finger and stomach ache would keep the exterior of his mind absorbed, however he knew from experience that his feelings would convulse beneath the surface and drive him up the wall – and all over Mr. Jordan's nerves.

He continued on towards Tess, who would no doubt have a growing list of people to treat, but one person in particular caught his eye. He stared at the patient, knowing he recognised her from somewhere. His sleep deprived brain finally caught up with him.

_What is she doing here_?

* * *

><p>If you know who she is – it's pretty obvious – and you've got nothing else better to do – like me – then leave your guesses and I'll tell you who got it right.<p>

Whoever does gets virtual doughnuts. Not death and doughnuts, don't worry (shameless pun!) ;)

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	5. Like Chalk and Cheese

Okay, hopefully it will get into the main body of the story now. So sorry for my appalling lateness!

Enjoy.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

"I honestly did not see the step there. I only realised when I ended up face first on the floor."

Dylan only glanced up momentarily before returning his gaze to the x-ray in front of him. That was a textbook answer from more patients than he could count.

"Well, it's not broken, lucky for you – but it is fractured," he informed her.

"Isn't that sort of the same thing?"

"No." He deadpanned, looking up at her.

"Right."

"No, wrong – did you have a brief lapse in vision while driving yesterday?"

"Err," she paused, taken aback by his sudden change in subject, "...Maybe. Yes. I can't really be sure, though...," she trailed off.

He gave a sigh, more exasperated than necessary to express his impatience.

"Okay, we'll do some blood tests, check your eyes, and see where we go from there," he nodded and headed off to organise those tasks with a nurse, leaving her alone in the cubicle, thinking him even stranger than before.

Run-of-the-mill patients like these grated on Dylan's nerves. Just paying that little bit more attention could reduce the traffic in A&E departments by a quarter, at least. But then again, he was used to even more idiotic complaints whilst working as a GP, so his irritation wasn't quite at its maximum.

_At least now she may have a possible medical explanation for her clumsiness, _he considered, as his eyes sought out Tess; she was the most competent nurse they had, in his opinion.

"Could you get a hand x-ray and bloods for Louise Jenner, and make a quick call to ophthalmology for me?"

"Of course," she eyed him with very slight scepticism for some reason as she took hold of the receiver.

_Hasn't quite forgiven me for the last time Ms. Jenner was here_, he mused, remembering his earlier dismissal of Louise. He walked round the desk and logged in to the patient records, intending to update those of his patient when Sam came and stood beside him. She looked like she had something important to say. That couldn't be good.

She waited until he had hit enter to save the new information onto the system, but he beat her to the punch.

"Tell me why you're lurking there - and make it quick." He left the computer and began to return to cubicles for his patient, not once looking at Sam.

She followed briskly but smoothly behind him, having already anticipated his hasty retreat. They talked as they walked, their responses falling in quick succession as per usual.

"I just wanted to know when you get off shift."

"Why would that be exactly?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied irately, not wanting to say it plainly out loud.

"Probably, but please don't refrain from illuminating me."

"Why don't you illuminate yourself?"

"Because that would defeat the purpose of this exercise."

"What exercise?"

"The 'spit-it-out-and-go-away' exercise," he glanced back at her as he side stepped an elderly couple.

"Fine."

She grabbed his sleeve and jerked him to a halt. He turned around and gave her an exasperated look, clearly not appreciating her physical gesture. She dropped her hand.

"We. Need. To. Talk. Clear enough for you?"

"Well, I need to check my diary," he turned his own hand up and looked at his palm fleetingly, "Whoops, it's full."

He gave her the sarcastic form of what was supposed to be an apologetic face and turned abruptly on his heel. He was filled with annoyance and the want for her to leave well enough alone. Also, a sickly familiar twist in his stomach. He'd forgotten just how beautiful she looked when she was angry.

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

Louise continued to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling restless. She was distracted from her thoughts, however, when a familiar physician came over. She relaxed a fraction.

"What are you doing back here?" He questioned in that memorable Scottish lilt.

"Tripped and broke – no fractured – my finger," she held up the offending digit, swollen red and purple around the middle, "Story of my life," she laughed.

"I bet it is. Your breathing feeling better? I know it's only been a day, though."

"Yeah," she touched her chest gently, "Yeah. On and off pains, but that's just the bruises."

"You'll be like that for a little while, but only a month or two. As long as you don't turn up tomorrow."

She grinned, but Lenny could see that it didn't quite match her tone of voice. She looked exhausted. It was probably nothing, but most things that were thought to be 'nothing' often turned out as a very big 'something'. It wouldn't hurt to ask, he reasoned.

"So, have you got some family to look after you, boyfriend, husband, parents...?"

She hesitated ever so slightly before answering – something Lenny didn't miss.

"Just my Dad. But my Mum too, it's just that they're separated and I've always preferred living with my Dad."

At least she wasn't alone, but for some reason Lenny still felt uneasy. He didn't have any more time to further explore the matter as Dr. Keogh had returned, looking slightly confused and affronted at Lenny's presence.

"Dr. Lyons. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Was just seeing how your patient was doing..." he attempted to explain.

Dylan could see that there was an unspoken 'again' hanging off the end. He bristled further.

"Quite. But I'd like to emphasise the 'your' in that sentence. Why don't you go bother _your_ own patients instead of mine?"

"Right."

He simply nodded at Louise and left, feeling just a little embarrassed, and Louise just a little uncomfortable. He went to collect his first case – almost twenty minutes into his shift – something _Tess _didn't miss.

"Dr. Lyons, a bit of punctuality would be appreciated," she admonished, while handing him a file, "Michael Barker, breathing difficulties, cubicle 1."

"Sorry, yes," he accepted the file.

He inwardly groaned as he noticed Jordan eyeing him with disproval. _3 people annoyed in one morning, absolutely brilliant. _He quickly went to see his first charge. Michael was a portly forty seven year old IT technician. As Lenny approached he could see him panting deeply, his hands clasping the edge of the bed as Scarlett stretched an oxygen mask onto his face.

"Mr. Barker? I'm Dr. Lyons and I'll be treating you today."

Michael looked up and nodded, clearly unable to string a greeting together.

"So when did this start?" Lenny began, listening to his chest with his stethoscope.

He pulled the mask down, "Around... half an hour... ago," he sucked in through the mask, "... thought it was nothing."

Lenny slung his stethoscope back around his shoulders.

"Well, it certainly doesn't sound like nothing."

Lenny frowned. His chest sounded as though there were holes in his lungs, the air shuddering in and out with each inhale and exhale. Not that there were, obviously.

"We're going to need a chest CT, ten minute obs, and keep up with that oxygen. Let me know if things change."

Scarlett nodded in acknowledgement and Lenny turned around quickly, only to bump straight into someone. They both apologised simultaneously.

"It's alright," Lenny assured awkwardly, "... do you need some help?"

The man was around Lenny's height with greying hair and of average build. He looked like he was in his mid-forties.

"Ah, please. I'm looking for my daughter - Louise Jenner?"

"Oh, okay, right. Follow me."

Lenny led Mr. Jenner away, hoping that Dr. Keogh would refrain from biting his head off this time.

The patient in question, meanwhile, was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders sinking. She was so tired. Two trips to A&E in two days was no easy feat. Lenny noticed that she immediately tensed upon seeing the man beside him. Why, exactly, he was planning on finding out.

She was approached by her father, "Oh sweetheart, what have you done?"

He gingerly sat down beside her and looked at her hand.

"Dad, relax, it's just a little fracture, it'll be fine."

"But I told you to wait for me. You didn't wait for me yesterday either. What if you'd hurt yourself more? You can never be too sure."

"You're overreacting," she looked up at Lenny for support.

"Well, he has got a point. Though we have checked Louise over, Mr. Jenner, and apart from that finger she's perfectly fine, as far as I'm aware."

"Is that so?"

Lenny mentally face palmed.

"Mr. Jenner, this is Dr. Keogh, another of my colleagues who has also been treating your daughter," he quickly reeled out, stepping out of Dylan's way as he walked further into the cubicle, visibly unimpressed.

"Yes, quite, perhaps you'll want to see this," he gave Lenny a sarcastic look before handing him the results of the blood tests.

He turned to father and daughter while Lenny scanned the papers, "According to the blood tests your daughter has some incredibly low vitamin D levels, and consequently, low calcium levels. This is what has probably led to the poor vision and brittle bones. How they were allowed to deteriorate so badly, I don't know, but I'm going to prescribe some supplements," he then focussed on Louise, "Have you been experiencing muscle weakness, bone pain, fatigue..."

She frowned as she tried to remember.

"Yeah, I think so. But not all the time, every now and again."

"How is your diet? Incredibly poor, I presume?"

She drooped with shame, "I guess. I've never really paid much attention to what I eat."

"And there we have it."

Her father felt the need to defend her against the older doctor's accusations.

"It's not her fault. She developed bad eating habits after the divorce five years ago, and I never had the heart to tell her otherwise." He looked down at her as she smiled sadly.

Dylan, however, wasn't one for sentimentality: "So it's more than one person's fault. Fine. But that doesn't actually matter. What matters is that we get those Vitamin D levels back up, and quickly."

"I totally agree, once we get that problem solved, everything else should hopefully fall into place," Lenny tried to soften the bluntness of Dylan's statements. However, Dylan had had enough.

"Okay, then Dr. Lyons. Why don't you sort these out while I quickly make a phone call," then to the Jenners, "Have a good day."

He thrust the remaining papers into Lenny's hands and walked out. Lenny turned back to the remaining pair in the cubicle.

"Why don't you two get some coffee? While I... file this paperwork."

He fled the cubicle, irritated by Dylan's dismissal. He was caught on his way to the desk area by Scarlett.

"Mr. Barker's scan results."

"Fine. Thank you."

He plucked the results from her hands and hurriedly continued as Scarlett looked after his retreating back, wondering what his problem was. Less than a few seconds later he was confronted by Dylan.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

"What, exactly, are you finding so difficult to understand by 'go bother your own patients'?" He questioned, wanting to know why Dr. Lyons had been interfering since the start of the shift.

"He was asking me where she was. I wasn't going to ignore him."

Dylan saw his lips press together firmly, face set hard. He decided to continue anyway.

"But you shouldn't have been giving him false confirmations about _my_ patient's health."

Lenny turned and justified himself, "He was asking and you weren't there. Seeing as I've been more help to her the past two days, yes, I felt confident in offering an opinion."

This junior was certainly one uppity prat.

"Then you shouldn't have much problem with closing this case up, now will you?"

"Fine by me."

Lenny's eyes were dark and his tone remained level. Dylan took hold of a telephone receiver, knuckles white with frustration. Their little disagreement hadn't gone unnoticed by many of the surrounding staff.

* * *

><p>Sam had paused to watch the little scene too. She definitely needed that talk. Perhaps now was a good time? What with the palpable tension enveloping the pair. She finally decided to approach Dylan, but too late. She watched with hidden displeasure as Zoe moved towards him and spoke with him in lowered tones. Her insistence on sorting out their marital status increased.<p>

* * *

><p>What was his problem today? She may have expected such an outburst from Dr. Lyons, but hadn't expected Dylan to get so wound up in return. She chose to broach the issue gently, by a simple "Are you alright?"<p>

Dylan looked up at her through narrowed eyes, "Yes, perfectly, thank you, Dr. Hanna."

Zoe ignored his slightly hurtful indifference, "Care to explain what just happened with Lenny, then?"

"He is just an over-ambitious rookie; nothing else."

He continued to avoid looking in her direction.

"Then if he's such a rookie, shouldn't _you _be trying to lead him down the straight and narrow? Not fuelling the fire?", and at his irritated look, she continued more carefully, "Look, just talk to him, straighten things out. God knows you haven't got many people on your side as it is. And to think about it, neither has he. You never know, might do you both some good."

Feeling like she had said enough, she pivoted on the tip of her stiletto, leaving Dylan with yet another social challenge to meet.

* * *

><p>This is a build up chapter – hope it wasn't too... stringy. Wow, that made no sense whatsoever.<p>

Anyways.

Please review and I hope you enjoyed this instalment.

Anxious Owl (^,^)


	6. Anger and Apologies

Once again, thank you to Lisa95!

And on with the story...

* * *

><p><span>Lenny<span>

Just who did he think he was? Most people would appreciate a colleague offering a helping hand, simply directing their patient's relative towards them – but not this guy. No, this guy was something else entirely. Lenny pushed down the nozzle of the hand wash violently and it squirted out a splash of its contents into his awaiting palm. He angrily rubbed it into his skin; Mr. Barker's scan results underneath one arm, as he walked to a desk to read them. He would have to get this patient over and done with, and then clear up things with Keogh's patient, _and then _Tess would be on his back for only having seen two patients all morning. _Brilliant, _he thought sardonically. Linda came to stop by his side. _Even better._

She, among the dozen or so other staff members in the area, had felt the obvious tension between the two doctors, and felt she owed it to him to see if he was alright. She also knew that it wouldn't necessarily be easy.

"Hey, feeling okay?"

His jaw set tight, he replied, "Never better." He continued to look down at the scan results.

She sighed. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing; I just helped him out and he acted like I'd stolen his patient or something. Like I'm not even fit to do this job."

"Yeah, but he's like that with everyone. And he's got plenty enough going on," she tried to lighten the mood, "You'd think he'd be the last person to be having problems in his love life. We never even knew he had one."

Lenny sighed and forced a small grin. Linda smiled back in approval.

"... Is there anything else on your mind? You wouldn't usually fight back like that. And... you look a bit down."

He paused. This was his chance to let someone in, try to get some form of understanding. Sure, Linda knew about him being in care, but that simple fact was just the tip of the iceberg. The only person who had ever known nearly everything about his personal life was Yuki. He wasn't sure if he was ready to increase membership to that extremely exclusive club just yet.

"Nah. That's just me. And he's been getting on my nerves since yesterday too."

"Okay," she just looked at him for a moment, and then decided that maybe that's all it was, "Now just forget it – besides, I think Mr. Barker would appreciate it if you actually read his results rather than burning a hole through them."

"Yeah..," he was still a little tense, but it would pass.

He actually took a good look at the sheet. Then he came to a standstill.

The image of his patient's lungs didn't look right at all. They were extremely cloudy, the whitest parts near the middle of each one, long and thin, with grey tendrils emerging from them out to the surrounding lung tissue. How Michael Barker had only thought it necessary to come in today, Lenny couldn't fathom. But he needed treatment. And fast. Lenny jumped up and sprang into action, the amusing images of evil things happening to Dr. Keogh evaporating instantly. Linda looked immediately concerned at his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"No idea, but I'm going to find out. Get a tox screening and bloods for Michael Barker, cubicle 2," he said whilst quickly moving away towards said cubicle.

He approached the man, still breathing through a mask, but looking much more relaxed. He decided to get straight to the point.

"Mr. Barker, the images taken of your lungs showed significant damage. Exactly what caused it, we're still working on, but I need you to tell me anything you know about this. Like if you have any other existing respiratory problems, had an accident, a cold, anything."

The man in question pulled down his mask, "Nothing at all. Well, not really..."

"Anything," Lenny reiterated.

"The office I worked in shut down two months ago after they found asbestos in the ceiling, though."

He pushed his mask back over his nose. Lenny stood there, incredulous.

"You mean to tell me you knew that you had been into contact with asbestos and didn't think that was important to say at the start?"

"I didn't think it was asbestos making it hard to breathe, I thought it was my asthma, or heart disease creeping up on me like my Dad. Besides, everyone else on my floor felt fine and my breathing's never been this bad."

"Didn't health inspectors get checks done?"

"The boss tried to keep it hushed, but we went bankrupt only a few weeks after and nothing happened."

Lenny couldn't believe what he was hearing. A major health hazard was simply forgotten, and this man was probably not the only victim.

"They just told us to go to the GP."

_Okay, this could be going somewhere; they might've gotten some help..._

"And what did they say?"

"I didn't go."

"What- Why not?" Lenny's tone had increased in volume and impatience, drawing Scarlett into the cubicle ("Is everything okay in here?")

He didn't have time for ignorance; didn't this man's health mean anything to him? Especially if he had asthma _and _a risk of heart disease. _Some people..._ Lenny realised he was getting more heated with every word that came out of the technician's mouth, but focussed on the man's words instead of calming down.

"I had bigger problems. Mortgage, debts, no job, no savings. I hardly had any time."

_You should've found time, damn it._ He stood to lose so much more than his house. Lenny couldn't stand it, and said about as much.

"How could you be so _irresponsible _about your own health?"

"Dr. Lyons? Lenny!"

Linda had returned from ordering tests and was looking right at him from beside an apprehensive Scarlett.

He had to get out of there.

"Excuse me...," he left the cubicle, fled the second set of surprised stares that surrounded him, and made a beeline for the nearest corridor out of the ED.

* * *

><p><span>Dylan<span>

He had forgotten about talking to Dr. Lyons until he heard raised voices emanating from somewhere in cubicles. He supposed he should investigate; after all, he _was _one of the consultants on the ward. The voices escalated in intensity, so he sighed heavily and made his way there. However, he only got there in time to see Dr. Lyons storming out into a corridor, and the blonde nurse and puffy-haired nurse talking to a rotund man with an oxygen mask on. Everyone else seemed fine, obviously more concerned with their own problems - and gossip - to care less.

That was the moment when his conscience once again reared its ugly head, nudging him down the path a furious Dr. Lyons had just taken. He bit the bullet and went out to see the man, who was leaning against the pale coloured wall, but staring at the floor and wringing his hands.

Dylan walked until he was a metre away from the younger man and stopped. He then turned and leant against the wall – but with straighter posture, of course. He noticed Lenny look sideways at him and then turn his gaze to the opposite wall. A heavy silence passed between them. Dylan broke it quietly.

"She should be able to go home soon."

They continued to gaze at the wall. The silence remained. Dylan heard Lenny sigh heavily and saw him run a hand over his head through his peripheral vision.

"Look, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

Dylan nodded absent-mindedly, "I agree."

Lenny turned to face him, as if to say: 'Excuse me?'

Dylan met his look and did a double take. _Ah, right._

"... And I suppose I shouldn't have, really, argued like I did. It was very... unbecoming of me."

Lenny once again faced the opposite wall. Dylan continued.

"There's obviously something on your mind and it would be best for everyone if you got it out of your system and got on with your job. I'm saying that from personal experience – no doubt you catch my drift," he added with disdain.

"Oh so you're a councillor now, is that it?"

"God no. My dog would be a better councillor than me."

"You don't say..."

Lenny paused, as if weighing something up in his head. _Probably wondering whether or not to trust me_, Dylan presumed, and secretly hoped that the other medic would think against that course of action. After all, this was Dr. Lyons he was talking about.

Lenny blew through his mouth slowly and steeled himself for what he was about to say.

"My sister's dead."

Dylan's turned his head and watched the man with a surprised, but sombre, look. He hadn't expected that. He also took note of the fact that those three words were said in complete monotone, as if the young man beside him was detached from the world. During the very few compulsory encounters or observations of Dr. Lyons, Dylan had only ever seen him joking or smiling moronically, or squirming under the scrutiny of his seniors.

"I see. I'm... sorry," he paused, "...were you close?"

(Dylan assumed such empty, yet apparently comforting, gestures were necessary.)

The other man laughed bitterly. "Not in the slightest."

"I doubt that highly after last night." He paused and waited to gauge Dr. Lyons' reaction.

He turned his head up and, for the first time, looked him in the eyes cautiously, "What do you mean?"

"It was a bit difficult to miss."

"Even if everyone else did."

"But you acted like you didn't want them to know."

"I didn't – I don't."

"They won't."

Dr. Lyons should know by now that Dylan was the last person to partake in staff room gossip, after being at the centre of it for the best part of a month now.

"... Cause of death...?"

"What?"

"What did she die of?"

"Aplastic Anaemia. Terminal."

He once again spoke in a tone far too clinical for Dylan's liking.

"I see."

"No, you don't. If you'd excuse me, I've got patients to see to."

Dylan straightened up as Dr. Lyons passed him, looking as though their conversation had never occurred. A look he himself knew all too well. Perhaps it would be best to do the same.

* * *

><p>This was somewhat shorter than I had anticipated, but hey.<p>

I'm also planning on extending my mini fic-drabbly-thing _'The Queen of Hearts'_ into a series of random snapshots of Dylan's life, which I may do for Lenny too - if I get my act together.

As always, reviews are golden.

Anxious Owl (^,^)


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